


your dreams, they won't last

by remylebabe



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angry Jaskier | Dandelion, Angst, Apologies, Courting Rituals, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Smut, Fix-It, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Apologizes, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Uses His Words, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia is Bad at Communicating, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia is Bad at Feelings, Jaskier | Dandelion Has Feelings, Jealous Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, Possessive Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Post-Episode: S01E06 Rare Species, Professor Jaskier | Dandelion
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-04
Updated: 2020-03-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:48:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23011237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/remylebabe/pseuds/remylebabe
Summary: Geralt doesn’t know what he’s saying, the words just spill out. “How can I fix this?”“Figure it out,” Jaskier says, moving over to the door and opening it. “I have work to do.”
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 20
Kudos: 275





	your dreams, they won't last

It had been twenty years.

Twenty years since Geralt had driven Jaskier away, twenty years of hearing his name on the breeze, hearing his songs in taverns, twenty years of Geralt avoiding Jaskier. Whether it was out of guilt or pride that he didn’t seek out Jaskier, Geralt didn’t know.

A recent rumor of a graverobbing had brought Geralt to Redania; normally, this would have constituted a scoff at best, figuring it was likely a depraved human, and trying to keep himself out of the fate of mortals. However, the rumors grew louder, stronger – allegedly, great beasts were manifesting at the cemetery on the outskirts of the city of Oxenfurt, and Geralt figured the coin would be good, and there was only so many options of what it could have been – so why not? After negotiating his pay with the duke, Geralt was lead to the torn-up body of the latest gravekeeper, and he knew what was going on immediately.

Ghouls.

They were thankfully easy to dispel – while ghouls were dangerous in number, Geralt had been able to kill the alghoul that was preoccupied with feasting on a wolf he’d brought down, and that had essentially ruined any sort of order the ghouls had. Their ambush was disjointed, their frenzied swings making them clumsy enough that he’d been able to dispatch them without too much worry; as dawn grew nearer, they became even messier and uncoordinated. A job that perhaps felt too easy for the amount of coin he was getting – but he was in desperate need of it. A poor man didn’t complain.

Geralt picked up the head of the alghoul, slinging it over his shoulder and wiping some gore from his face with his other hand. Morning rose, Geralt received his pay quickly – and an offer he couldn’t refuse. The duke had looked at him and shook his hand vigorously, overjoyed at the death of the creature terrifying his city. While he was first suspicious, Geralt quickly supposed it made sense – Redania’s forces were usually strong enough they didn’t need any interference, especially from witchers. Apparently, this lord was exceptionally fond of Geralt, and after dropping his hand, spoke. “So, you’re in the great city of Oxenfurt – as I’m sure you know, our academy is incredibly prestigious.” 

Geralt nodded warily at the man, unsure what he was about to be offered. He’d attended some lectures here, years upon years ago, probably before this man was born. “Well,” the man continued, “at the very least, I’d love to give you a tour of the academy – perhaps you’ll decide to stay?” Geralt let out a little noise, somewhere between amusement and disbelief that this man thought he’d stay. “A tour,” he agreed, unwilling to not at least extend a bit of courtesy to the duke who’d filled his pockets for quite some time now.

The tour progressed, at least at first, precisely in the way Geralt had expected it – the academy had continued to grow, some students looked at him with fear, others with curiosity. He was growing tired, ready to ask to cut the tour short, when he caught a flash of cornflower blue eyes from across the courtyard, undeniably identifiable despite the greying hair and the beard he sported. 

Jaskier. 

Geralt managed to make it to the nearest pillar and froze up, as if he’d tried to take cover from a monster and then had been hexed to be rooted to the ground. The duke turned around, inquisitive. “Are you alright, Witcher?”

Geralt swallowed, straightened up his figure, and looked the duke in the eyes. “I’d like to stay. For the library.” As if they hadn’t made it out of the library ten minutes ago, as if Geralt hadn’t had a dead look in his eyes for the grand majority of the time.

“Oh!” the duke clapped his hands, delighted. “Should I register you as something – a student? A professor, perhaps?” He looked at Geralt pointedly, _pleadingly._

“No.” Geralt said, perhaps too abruptly. “I’d like to just do some research.” His voice dropped to a growl. “Don’t make a big deal out of it.” His message was received, and the duke cleared his throat, startled, giving Geralt a curt little nod of acknowledgement before hurrying off.  
He supposed twenty years had to be long enough, then.

\--

Finding where he could get Jaskier on his own, especially without creating any suspicion, was incredibly hard. Geralt had started with the librarian, but when he asked where Jaskier was, she’d just stared at him, blankly. “There’s no Jaskier here.” Back to her work she went, as if the whole interaction had exhausted her.

Did Jaskier have a twin? Geralt never remembered him mentioning it – although, he had to be honest, there was so much Jaskier said that he tuned out. Geralt spent his time using his witcher skills for the worst reason he possibly could, sneaking about, eavesdropping on others and trying to perhaps catch another glimpse of those unmistakable eyes.

Geralt found out where Jaskier was entirely by mistake, in a laughable twist of fortune. He was at a table secluded in the back of the library, where students would pay him no mind – if they even saw them. Usually, he used this spot to keep an ear out, an eye out, but Geralt was exhausted, consumed with guilt, nursing his wounded pride at being stuck here like a swooning maiden, and incredibly frustrated. The voices of the students, however, they were too high, too enthusiastic to ignore, their pulses echoing from shelves away.

“Did you _see him?_ ” One voice near screeched, high-pitched. 

“I sure did. By Melitele herself, I’m positive that man is enchanted. A fae, or something.” This voice was gruffer, lower pitched, but just as smitten. 

Geralt huffed out an annoyed sigh, now privy to this gossipy chatter when he could have been appreciating brooding in the silence.

That is, until the first voice spoke again. “God, he’s fucking delectable – how I’d love to get my hands on him. Oh, Professor Pankratz, I’m so sorry…is there any way I can make up my failure on my exam?”

The second voice laughed, firing back. “As if he’d sleep with _you._ He lets me call him Julian.”

“He lets everyone call him Julian. _I_ just respect him.”

Julian Pankratz…where the fuck had Geralt heard that before?

He was sent back to twenty years ago, to climbing the mountainside, to saving Borch, to losing Yennifer and Jaskier. He’d found Yennifer since then, of course – the wish guaranteed that. Why this moment? Was his mind just forcing him to start from the end and work backwards?

Then Geralt remembered. Jaskier, his lute, his complaints, his proclamation – something about being Julian Alfred Pankratz. _Oh._ So he…wasn’t Jaskier anymore, then. Geralt swallowed thickly, trying not to think about the other implications of that sentiment.

That night, Geralt (again) put his skills to a use he certainly should not have, sneaking into the faculty records, finding Jaskier’s position – a professor of music, of course. At least that was still reflective of his Jaskier – no, the Jaskier he knew. Not his. From there, Geralt was able to track down where Jaskier’s office was, when his office hours were, glad that the academy was smart enough to have a system like this.

The next morning, Geralt loitered in a different courtyard, one that put him just across from Jaskier’s office. According to the schedule he’d stolen, his office hours were today – obviously, if they weren’t, Geralt wouldn’t be here. He was being incredibly stupid, but he wasn’t quite that far gone yet. So he waited in silence, trying to look natural, as if a witcher loitering at a university was a normal sight.

When Geralt saw him, his breath stopped for a moment. He never really needed it confirmed again, as if his glimpse the first time or his finding Jaskier’s file or everything else that had kept Geralt here hadn’t confirmed it, and yet, he felt like he’d been punched in the gut. 

But maybe that wasn’t just because he saw Jaskier again.

Jaskier was absolutely _surrounded_ as he moved to enter his office, the throng of students around him only allowing Geralt brief glimpses, the slightest catch of a blue eye or a lock of greyed brown hair. The feeling in Geralt’s gut shifted, becoming a rolling boil, leaving him stewing at the sight of all of these students surrounding Jaskier, fawning over him, getting to be near him.

When Jaskier got the door open, even Geralt could hear his voice, and the boiling feeling in his gut grew stronger at finally hearing it again. He sounded tired, not as spirited as his Jaskier – no, the Jaskier he had known. He looked frazzled, not enthusiastic – where was the Jaskier who thrived in attention? Who wanted to do nothing more than entertain a crowd? The door opened, and he let in the first of his students – his adoring fans, and Geralt felt the boiling sensation take over, an awful realization clouding his head, waves of frustration and jealousy he didn’t know the origin point of nearly drowning him.

This was Julian, not Jaskier.

\--

The realization kept washing over Geralt, sending him stumbling into the room the duke had so graciously given him, feeling as if he’d been dazed by a hard blow. He’d refused to let himself think about why he was here, why he felt so compelled to finally approach Jaskier, chalking it up to coincidence and guilt. But then – seeing all the people swooning over Jaskier, Julian, _whoever_ he was, feeling emotions from twenty years ago come spilling back –

Geralt was jealous.

Geralt didn’t know what that fucking meant, how to unpack that, but he knew he was consumed with searing jealousy, knew he wanted Jaskier back, knew he didn’t want these people to be around him, be allowed to swoon over his Jaskier.

As if he’d ever had Jaskier to begin with, as if he hadn’t spent the time even when he was with Jaskier pushing back every realization he had fallen for the damned bard, as if Geralt hadn’t spent these twenty years pushing the thought of Jaskier back because he didn’t know what he’d do if he saw Jaskier once more.

Fine. Maybe he knew what it meant, maybe he knew why he was jealous, maybe he realized he’d basically been loitering about campus for no other reason than to find out where Jaskier was, how he was doing.

Didn’t mean Geralt would admit it, even to himself, though.

\--

Geralt spent the week between Jaskier’s previous office hours and his next hours stalking about the library, reading about things he already knew and sometimes taking a quill to a book and correcting an inaccuracy on a certain monster, or a certain property of an herb. It was mind-numbing enough that Geralt was distracted, that it didn’t give him time to come up with a fully-developed plan – and that was probably a good thing.

Early on the morning of Jaskier’s office hours, earlier than he needed to, Geralt (again) used his training in ways he absolutely shouldn’t, picking the lock to the office and entering inside. He closed the door, ensuring it was locked, and took in his surroundings; took in the scent of Jaskier that lingered on some of the objects. The room was far less opulent than Geralt would have expected – there were more than a few musical instruments about, and the chairs were plush, but there wasn’t much of Jaskier in the room, really no personality. Geralt was about to sum it up to the restrictions of the college, until he sat in one of the chairs opposite of where Jaskier would sit, and his heart sank.

On the bookshelf right above where Jaskier’s head would be, stuck behind a glass case, was Filavandrel’s lute. It looked like it hadn’t been touched, hadn’t been played in ages, like it was forgotten. Apparently, professors were allowed to put as much of themselves as they wanted in their room, and Jaskier had put the one way Geralt had truly known him in a goddamn box. How many times had Jaskier sang songs praising Geralt with that lute, rewriting history; how many times had Jaskier gotten himself nearly killed because he insisted on going back to save damn lute, making Geralt save him in the process? He’d never seen Jaskier without his lute strapped to his back, never imagined Jaskier would ever leave it somewhere where he wasn’t.

Geralt’s legs shook, his heart ached, but he still sat there. That man he had seen wasn’t Julian. It was Jaskier. It had to be.

\--

Jaskier’s life had become boring, and he wasn’t sure if he was grateful for it, or if he had just buried the itch for adventure deep under his skin. For ten years now, he was no longer Jaskier, but back to going by his full name, back to being Julian. After ten years of wandering the continent, of singing songs that all sounded the same, songs about a white wolf and a songbird, Jaskier came home. They’d been happy to accept him as a professor at Oxenfurt; he’d been a successful student, and there was a convenient opening for a music professor when he’d returned. He’d quickly become…incredibly popular, and by that, his students just found him to be incredibly fucking hot.

Jaskier had hoped it would fade with age, but somehow the students at Oxenfurt had somehow become even more _rabid._ He wondered if he was enchanted, wondered if it was all a practical joke – but over the past ten years, there were so many students. He grew a beard? They loved it. He went grey? They adored it. He got glasses? It was possible one of them may have fainted – that was a popular rumor that went around. It was the only thing at this campus that he was known for, and he was _pissed._

A former, younger, less jaded Jaskier would have thrived with this flattery, would have bedded an ethically unsound amount of students; he knew this well. However, that Jaskier never seemed to have anything work out right, had been driven off twenty years ago by the man who still fucking popped up in his dreams, and Julian had now taken his place. Worn-out, stricter, less inclined to jokes, but still inclined to being too chatty – he’d never learned how to shut up. 

Perhaps that’s why the students were crowded around him as he opened his office door, as he idly answered questions he heard or gave acknowledgments to those who asked. That is, until his door opened just a crack, and he saw someone in one of his chairs. Jaskier went quiet, shutting the door with a panic that seemed to ripple through the crowd, creating nervous chatter amongst his students. “Listen,” his voice coming out stronger than he ever could have hoped for, “I have something to deal with – there’s a package on my desk I’ve been expecting. From family.” Jaskier swallows, glad he could come up with a vaguely reasonable excuse. By some miracle, the crowd disperses, but not without their share of grumbling.

Jaskier slips into his office, locking the door behind him but leaving one hand on the handle. “Who are you?” he near-whispers, although he knows the brief glance of white hair he spied through his door had already given him the answer.

The figure stands, turns, looks at him – and by Melitele, there he is. Geralt, in the flesh. Jaskier feels like screaming, feels like running, feels like embracing him – fuck, he doesn’t know what he feels. So he sits down, avoids getting too close to Geralt. 

Geralt’s tone is colder than Jaskier expects, than Geralt meant. “I should ask how you are, Julian.” His words aren’t quite accusatory, but they’re tinged with something else – hurt? Jealousy?

Jaskier looks at him in disbelief, his head spinning. “No. No, no, no, Geralt. You cannot waltz in here after twenty fucking years and guilt trip me for having a change in lifestyle. You don’t get to fucking _start_ with me, Mr. ‘If life could give me one blessing, it would make you jump off this mountain,’ or whatever you really said. You left me on that mountain, fucking _shattered_ to bits, and what did you expect me to do? Just sit around until you got your head out of your ass?”

Apparently, Jaskier feels like losing his mind.

Geralt looks at him, doesn’t know how to react, hates it, because – Jaskier has a point. This was his fault, and now he’d run back here, tail between his legs, as if Jaskier would accept him once again. As if Jaskier could even believe Geralt could destroy his pride enough to be here in his office – the other man probably figured Geralt was here just to be another selfish ghost from his past.

At Geralt’s lack of reply, Jaskier continues on, attempting to keep his voice from going louder, from screaming. He’s now standing up at his desk, pointing his finger accusatorily at Geralt. “For ten years after you left, I still sang your praises. Brokenhearted, left without the only person who I _stupidly_ thought _might_ give a shit about me, and I preached your gospel even after you abandoned me, after you took out your fucking frustration at being blueballed or whatever by the witchy woman out of me. I’m sure you’ve seen her since then, haven’t you?”

Of course Geralt had. The djinn’s wish had made sure of it. But things were never the same with Yennifer; part of Geralt had been left on that mountainside. She hadn’t wanted to wait around for Geralt to go fetch it back – and she was right, Geralt admired her for being the smart one, for making the right decision, even if it had stung like hell at the time.

That wasn’t the point, though. Geralt couldn’t just sit here, saying nothing, so he did what he knew best – he went straight to his emotions, grabbing Jaskier by the collar and pulling him in for a crushing kiss. The sensation was lost quickly, Jaskier jerking away, disgusted. “Absolutely not, Geralt. You don’t get to come back in here, kiss me like I’ve always wanted you to, and act like everything’s ok. This isn’t the fantasy I had years ago, where you come back and I let you back in without questions, because I love you.” Geralt looks at Jaskier, stunned, letting his hand drop. “You love me?”

Jaskier stares back at Geralt as if he has three heads. “It’s not like I fucking made it explicit with every little thing I said and did save for directly telling you, and honestly, I wasn’t willing to place my bets on your reciprocation enough to try and lose my only friend. Not that that matters – you didn’t even consider me a friend then, either.” He lets out a short, harsh laugh.

Geralt doesn’t know what he’s saying, the words just spill out. “How can I fix this?”

“Figure it out,” Jaskier says, moving over to the door and opening it. “I have work to do.” 

\--

Figure it out, Jaskier tells him, as if Geralt knows what to do, if Geralt knows what he’s doing. He figured kissing Jaskier would’ve told him everything he needed to, would’ve at least gotten the other man to calm down enough that they could talk – but apparently not. 

Fuck. Geralt was going to have to use the library, wasn’t he?

**Author's Note:**

> you can thank @thetathepurpleplatypus (here & on tumblr) as well as [these](https://daryshkart.tumblr.com/post/611509872666836992/the-story-is-this-while-jaskier-was-teaching-in) (gorgeous) [works](https://daryshkart.tumblr.com/post/610882210839609344/so-ive-been-talking-with-seventfics-about-silver) by daryskart for inspiring this fic
> 
> this was meant to be a one chapter thing, but my muse is...something else
> 
> stay tuned for chapter 2, featuring smut and fluff and perhaps even more angst >:)
> 
> (i promise i haven't forgotten about cut & dry <3 i'm still writing my next chapter for that <3)
> 
> as always, your likes/kudos/bookmarks bring me life. i adore you all :*


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